


Up Above

by TheTerezah



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTerezah/pseuds/TheTerezah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Professor R. Gold and unplanned passenger Belle French have somewhere to be. Sometimes the journey means more than the destination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to writing but had an idea I'd like to try. I've only posted a portion of it so far. I also have a tumblr under the same name. Depending on the response, I guess I'll continue? Let me know what you think. :)

 

Professor R. Gold stood slowly as the intercom crackled to life and announced it would now be boarding first class. He leaned heavily on his cane and shuffled to join the queue. After days of academic presentations, unreadable investors, and the two flights that had brought him to Japan in the first place, which had culminated in 19 hours of stiff and uneasy sleep, he was exhausted. He grimaced as he knew he would now have to do it all over again simply to get back “home”.

Unfortunately, “home” was not home. Not anymore. Now it was simply a house and one he did not particularly enjoy but could not stand to part from. He had a feeling he would die in that house. It would only be right.

Mind abuzz, he handed his ticket over and waited for it to be scanned but the attendant seemed to be preoccupied. His hands tensed and untensed on his cane as he waited.

“Is there a problem, dearie?” he asked softly.

The attendant turned immediately. Despite it's softness his Scottish burr had carried a strong undercurrent of annoyance. It did not pay to irritate those in first class.

“No, sir” the woman stated. “I'll be with you shortly.” She smiled hurriedly to the petite brunette on the other side of the counter whom she had been helping instead of him. The other woman scowled in his direction as she swept harried curls off her face. He ignored them both.

“Then here is my ticket.” He again handed his ticket over but stared straight ahead. This time it was promptly scanned with a stiff smile and a polite bow forward.

“My apologies on the wait, sir.”

He nodded curtly in thanks and continued forward. He just wanted to take a damn seat.

And it was quite the seat once inside. He had brought no carry-ons except for his laptop bag and brief case. There was no need to tip over and put himself out of sorts trying to manage anything else with a cane and a weary mind. The rest would be just fine in the hull of the jet. He slipped his brief case above and relaxed into his leather backed chair. He may have his issues with the university he taught at but he had to admit, they had spared no expense for this trip.

_The Japanese know how to fly_ , he thought to himself. His seat was an odd thing to behold but still one of the nicest he had ever been in. It was modeled after an overstuffed yet somehow sleek recliner and was encompassed behind and on the side with a thick wall of plastic. It essentially became a C shaped cocoon once seated. He would technically have a neighbor but it wouldn't really matter as the wall of plastic formed a partition between himself and whomever would have the main aisle seat. He most certainly would not be rolling it down. He hated idle chatter.

As he began to lounge and set up his tray before him, the rest of the passengers began to load. It was definitely a diverse group of people. Sometimes he enjoyed people watching. He found it darkly humorous to use his statistician's mind to assign the likelihood of different awful things.

_That one had an affair_ , he concluded. The man passing by was young, brandishing a sleek and modern wedding band and a very satisfied looking grin. And yet he was by himself. He looked awfully relaxed for someone who had most likely just completed a time crunched and exceedingly formal business trip. He seemed well dressed and one who studied men's magazines to keep sharp and “in the know”. Roughly, anywhere from 30 – 60% of men under thirty had affairs at one point. He was willing to bet that smirking jackass was one of them.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard someone sigh as they shifted in the seat beside him. It sounded like a woman. He hoped she wasn't a talkative one.

Shortly, all were loaded and his nasty little game had to end. The plane began to roll slowly making it's way toward the main runway. The flight attendants did their usual pre-flight hand dance, as his beloved Bae would have called it, as it mirrored in English on his LED screen.

Bae had loved flying. Gold didn't mind it really but he had never understood Bae's immediate taking to it. Even as a bairn, flying from Scotland to the states had been a magical adventure for him. No crying, no screaming, no panic or confusion. Just a love of the clouds, the sky, and what Bae had seen as the ultimate freedom. His boy had always been brave. Sometimes too much.

Apparently, whoever was behind the partition was not made of the same stuff. His neighbor could be heard wheezing soft little pants and murmuring “Oh, God, oh God, oh God...” in the strangest lilting accent he had ever heard.

“Are you all right, Miss?” the passing attendant asked. “We're about to take off and I need to take a seat. Can I get you anything beforehand?” Her long dark hair created a curtain around her face which was crinkled in concern.

_For fuck's sake this woman had better not vomit_ , he thought heatedly.

“No,” the unseen passenger said haltingly, “I can manage this. I'm a little nervous about flying but...I've done it before. I won't throw up, if that's what you're worried about! I promise!”

His neighbor gave a strained giggle after that and Gold's doubts doubled. He made the effort to look up and stare directly at the attendant and tried to communicate nonverbally that she had better handle this and _quick_.

“Well, Miss, I must insist that I give you a bag...just in case. We want to assure your comfortability as well as those...around you.” The attendant kept her eyes downcast as she said this. It may be uncomfortable to push the issue but it seemed neither he nor she wanted to smell, or in her case clean up, any messes today.

“Oh. Well...if you insist. I'm just afraid it will act as a trigger...” Her voice faded off into what he could only imagine as a sweaty and dull panic. The attendant only ignored her, deposited the paper bag into her lap and gave a short bow as she moved away to go to her seat.

“Oh God,” his neighbor gulped out again in a strangled whisper. The engines began to roar to life. Her litany took over again under her breath and Gold shook his head. Who the hell signed up for such incredibly long flights if they were terrified of flying?

He opened his newspaper. The plane began to throttle forward and Gold dimly registered that the wheel had now skipped off the tarmac and was beginning it's ascent. The wheezing to the side intensified.

Suddenly, the partition came sliding down just as the plane tilted dramatically upward and Gold looked over in surprise. If this nervous nelly thought he was going to talk her through some panic attack she had another thing coming!

The moment he looked over was the exact moment she chose to vomit violently into her bag. She retched awfully but he still managed to recognize her as the other customer at the counter earlier. What a shame such a pretty face was screwed up in panic and pain. He wanted to look away but it was like watching a train wreck. He couldn't seem to turn away.

Eventually, he realized her elbow had hit the switch to lower the partition. She was still gagging softly into her bag. He could only assume the little spitting sounds were that of unclogged phlegm coming up. _Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting._

The woman looked up again with a pasty face and finally met his eyes. Despite vomiting her guts out, he was disturbed to admit that she was still one of the loveliest women he had seen. It was rather striking the way her watered eyes had illuminated the sea green blue of her irises and the pink of her cheeks and nose had highlighted the delicacies of her face. Even her halo of currently crazed curls had lent itself to making her look ethereal as opposed to deranged as most others would in this situation. In a quick glance, he could see she still wore a badge from some meeting or other that said “Hi! My name is   Belle French .”

Unfortunately, she did not seem to appreciate this accidental invasion of her privacy. This “Belle French” twisted her body to look straight at him as she raised her chin slightly and rolled the top of her sick bag closed.

And then, in the primmest Australian accent he ever heard, she stated simply: “Fuck. Off.”

And rolled the partition right back up on his shocked face.


	2. Chapter Two

Belle French was not amused. In fact, she was shaky and weak and that never failed to piss her off. So when the jerk from earlier was staring at her as she made an ass of herself she couldn't hold back. She was determined to be dignified about it though so she had closed her bag of sick as gracefully as possible and then proceeded to cuss him out.

Fantastic.

She knew she ought to apologize but when her stomach gave another lurch as the plane angled sharply to the right she decided that would just have to wait.

Belle had always hated flying, even from day one. The concept appealed to her but the mechanics and the feel of the earth not firmly beneath her feet killed her. Take off was always the worst. As long as the flight was smooth she could semi-trick her mind into not caring about the majority of the flight. She would try to believe she was just stuck in some magic but safe room that was transporting her wherever she wanted to be. Landing wasn't even that bad either since she was just so damn relieved to get off. But take off. Dear God, take off.

Soon after, as planes are wont to do, the ascent ended and they were gliding in the sky for the next 11 hours. Belle tried to breathe deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She plugged her headphone jack into her phone and began playing the relaxation music Dr. Hopper suggested she listen to in order to calm her down.

Really anyone else would have been ecstatic to be in her place. She had been able to visit her old roommate Ruby in Tokyo for a whole week and for free to boot! Ruby was religious about collecting credit card points and since she was a) truly awful with finances and b) “stuck” in Tokyo for a while teaching English to middle school students she had decided to offer a round-trip coach ticket to Belle. Even Belle, deathly afraid of flying could not pass up the adventure and intrigue of a free trip and room in Japan. 

It had been a nice break and Belle did not regret her decision to just take the leap and go. She would have later regretted just sitting at home wallowing and worrying about her new university and position. Ruby had a talent for being wild and it seemed to have intensified in her time abroad. Belle shook her head in remembrance of Ruby's fishnet halter and crimson bandeau beneath. She had a feeling the conservative Japanese businessmen on the train had been both horrified and turned on. In fact, she knew it. Their last adventure together had been to some random luncheon one of the businessmen had invited them to. It was formal and stuffy but Ruby loved to incite and Belle loved her for it. It had been fun. She kept life fresh.

Now she had somehow managed her way into first class. Ruby must be rubbing off on her because it had required more persuading than she was used to. Her original flight out was supposed to leave three hours ago. Instead it had been delayed. Considering her new job began the day after she got back it was of the utmost importance that she left immediately. As soon as the apologetic male attendant stated they weren't sure when they would be leaving and hotels were being booked, Belle herself had booked. She took an impromptu right and scanned the departure screens for any plane leaving soon for the states. Lo and behold, there was one to California offered by a sister company of Belle's original flight. She was sure she could get some kind of connection to Maine. Hell, she was even willing to pay for it if it came down to it. Her new position was worth it.

Finally, she skidded to gate A42 in a blind panic. It left in 10 minutes. She tried to slow down, put on her sweetest smile, and approach the main desk. The woman was just now calling for first class.

Eventually, despite the rude interruption from her now neighbor she had managed to get a seat. And not just any seat. First class! Really, his interruption may have been the break she needed. It had seemed to fluster the attendant. Afterward, there had been an unsurprisingly large up charge but Belle could honestly say it was worth it. Rubes would be proud. 

Unfortunately, Belle was not. She had told an innocent man to “Fuck. Off.” and despite his being rude and her being embarrassed that just wasn't okay. Hot shame closed up her throat. It was her fault the partition even went down. He had been called before her in line. Who was really the jerk here?

Belle stated her mantra in her head: _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._ It had worked thus far.

The button for the partition went down painfully slow and louder than she would have thought. It was agonizing to just sit there, slowly turning in her seat, and giving a small polite smile as she waited for it to go down fully and for him to acknowledge her presence.

He did not.

“Pardon me,” she said softly.

He continued to stare at his newspaper. She could tell he wasn't actually reading now. Just resolutely ignoring her. Honestly, was he twelve?

“I'm sure I've made a terrible impression but I'd like to apologize for earlier...” Belle tried to solider on but the man was still not turning toward her.

“Sir?”

Finally, he turned. He folded his paper down and eyed her from above the edge. It was not a nice look. Disdainful really.

“Tell me, dearie. Do you make a habit of telling people to, oh what was it? 'Fuck. Off.' and then just expect them talk to you whenever you please thereafter?”

Belle flushed. The honest answer was "no" but she had a feeling from looking at him that he was in no place to judge bouts of temper. His accent sounded Scottish. They were not exactly famous for their calm demeanors. Then again she knew what they said about assuming so she bore his contempt and tried again.

“I am not in the habit of telling people to 'fuck off” and I'm sorry I did it to you. It was wrong of me and my embarrassment at the situation was not your fault. Again, I apologize...”

All he did was stare. Either he thought she was ridiculously formal, an idiot, a mix of both or he had just never heard a sincere apology in his life.

Another beat or two passed. He seemed mildly confused. Then, he nodded slowly.

“Well, all right then... Apology accepted.”

“Really?” She asked a little too excitedly. He must have fallen into the “I've never heard a sincere apology” category and for some reason she was a little too happy that he had accepted.

“Yes.” It was simple but there it was. He seemed surprised himself.

“Well, thank you. I, uh, hope you have a great flight.” She tucked her head downward as she said this and grinned in a self-deprecating fashion. Then she waved lightly as she pressed the up button on the partition.

What an odd experience.


	3. Chapter Three

Gold typed in the last bits of data into his current Excel sheet. He was glad to be done and frankly he couldn't enter anything else if his life depended on it. He was hungry, tired, and possibly intrigued.

Normally he hated talking to people on planes but he wanted to speak with this “Belle French”. No one was ever that straight forward and rude with him, usually it was the other way around if his department had any say in the matter, but at the same time he had a feeling this girl was much nicer than most. Anyone who left the anonymity of their sky high cocoons and so sincerely apologized must be a better and braver person than most. 

Priority number one though was food. Intrigued or not. The flight had both a western and eastern option and he decided eastern. It was ever so slightly more expensive and anytime he could possibly piss off Dean Mills then he took it.

He had to admit his miso-glazed cod was delicious but it was the sake that sealed the deal. He asked for scotch thereafter and sat for the first time in a while in contentment.

That was until they hit turbulence. 

It was mild really. The plane felt more like it was a truck on an unpaved road more than anything but it seemed to have set off this Belle French again. He could hear her muttering softly on the other side.

Feeling wicked and unable to resist, he called out: “Going to be sick again, dearie? Or will you be skipping straight to the expletives?”

He chuckled at his quip.

A reedy voice responded, “Which would you prefer? I'm feeling, oh so, accommodating right now.”

A grin crossed his face. It would seem this nervous slip of a girl was trying to be fierce for some reason or another. That grin slipped when the turbulence ramped up and the partition began to come down.

“I'm sorry, but I need a distraction. I honestly don't feel like throwing up or cursing out strangers again.” Her polite smile shook a bit. She reached out a hand.

“I'm Belle French. And you?”

It took him a moment for his head to make all of the necessary connections for speech. He reached out a hand to shake hers and was a little too pleased to note how well it fit in his and that while definitely feminine it was not a weak shake.

“Gold,” he finally said.

“Just Gold? No first name?” she smiled uncertainly like he was having her on.

“It's just Gold. Not a fan of my first name.”

“Ah. Well Mr. Gold, what brought you to Japan?” She was turning ever so slightly green as she asked. It seemed they had hit a rough patch in the skies.

“Do you actually want to know?”

“Right now you could recite the alphabet and I would be fascinated. Just talk to me please.”

Gold smirked at that. He normally wouldn't bother with something like this but it wasn't everyday pretty girls asked so directly for him to talk with them.

“I had a few presentations to give. A business meeting. Etcetera.”

“A business trip then? I see. I came for pleasure. A friend of mine lives in Tokyo now. Although we did go to someone's business luncheon...”

She glanced down with a wry smile and took her name tag off. That explained that then.

“Her name is Ruby. Adventurous type. I had fun but it's good to head back home. Well, my new home that is. I just need a break!”

His curiosity was piqued despite himself. It would make no sense for someone who lived in Australia to make a connection in the states. 

“Where is this new home then, dearie? Warm and sunny California?” 

He could both envision this possibility and not. She seemed like a warm, sunny person and probably very open minded but... she didn't quite seem like a West Coaster. He knew California consisted of more than L.A. and the type of women on that god awful “Real Housewives” series but he had a hard time imagining her there. She seemed intelligent, if her speech and enormous stack of books on her tray table said anything, and while smart people could certainly live in California it just didn't seem to be a natural fit. He had a feeling that a girl like her could appreciate the harsh beauties of snowstorms, drizzly mists, and never-ending hurricane seasons.

“Oh no. I was studying in D.C. for a while but now I'm heading up toward Maine. Australia originally, of course.”

Her smile was particularly bright as she said this. She seemed to have completely forgotten the turbulence now.

“Of course, like any good ex-pat I miss my original home too. Oz will forever be my real “home”, even if I live in the states for the rest of my life. I'm sure you can understand...”

He did. He loved the states really. And he had no plans to ever move back to Scotland. But, the fact remained that he was Scottish and not American, not really, and one never completely forgets that. He took a lot of pride in his homeland.

“Aye, I can understand that. I'm originally from Glasgow. They're a bit daft. Never quite leaves a person, eh?”

She laughed at that. It was a melodic sound and one that he had a feeling many men enjoyed hearing. Fuck, he liked hearing it.

“So, Maine you said? I'm headed that way myself. How are you connecting?”

“Not sure yet, to be honest. This wasn't originally my flight so I'll have to see what LAX can offer when we arrive. I just hope they have something soon. I start a new job on Monday and I'd like to actually be there.”

He didn't envy her there. LAX was a hassle of an airport. Always packed and always full flights. He vaguely hoped they'd have the same flight back.

“So, how are you biding your time for this ridiculously long flight?” She asked with a grin.

“I was planning on sleeping soon now that my work is done. But, I have a feeing I won't be able too.”

“Oh! I know exactly what you mean! I can never sleep on planes. Ever. I've even made my way through a 20 hour flight once. Horrific really.”

“A 20 hour flight? I got the impression you were scared of flying. Why in God's name would you do that?”

“Just because I'm scared doesn't mean it's not worth doing. I always say “do the brave thing and bravery will follow”. My mum's words really. And in her opinion, bravery wasn't just doing grandiose acts of heroism. It's tackling the little things that scare you.”

He paused at that. He had to admit he liked that definition. It sounded like the sort of thing Bae would have liked. 

“Quite philosophical. Is your mum always so?”

Ms. French's eyes seemed to shutter closed. 

“No. That was a while back. She's passed since then.”

He nodded slowly and looked awkwardly back to his folded newspaper. Eye contact after someone telling you their mum died was just a little too personal for him and he had a feeling no words of condolences would make a dent. He knew they wouldn't on him.

“Oh!” she said with a renewed pep in her voice. “Is that a crossword? I love word games! Would you mind?”

He looked at her in surprise and then back down to the crossword on the page. He wasn't sure why but he wasn't quite ready for the partition to go back up. This was as good of an excuse as any he supposed.

His slow reaction seemed to bring on some hesitancy on her part.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude. I can leave you to rest of course...”

He shook his head. “No, that's fine. I never manage to finish these. Maybe I'll finally be able to.”

She smiled brightly at that and leaned against the plastic wall still in-between them. She rested her head on her hand and angled her crystalline blue eyes up to his after reading clue one.

“Well, I think I can answer what a 'down under bird' is...”

He had never been so happy to fill in a crossword as he was now.


End file.
